


daddy issues

by deersnout



Series: haikyuu songfics [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Alpha Bokuto Koutarou, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bokuto Koutarou is a Good Friend, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Father/Son Incest, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Akaashi Keiji, Omega Verse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Songfic, Trauma, akaashi's father is a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deersnout/pseuds/deersnout
Summary: Akaashi has never been good about opening up and asking others for help, but things back home are not looking bright, and he’s running out of time.Being vulnerable is far from easy, though; yet Akaashi is tired of holding everything in. He needs to tell someone. He needs to tell someone before the shame consumes him and forces his emotions to burst.***mind the warnings & tags.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Akaashi Keiji's Parents, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: haikyuu songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702306
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	daddy issues

**Author's Note:**

> Song: "daddy issues" by The Neighbourhood.
> 
> i've hit a block with my other bkak fic 'too close to the stars' (which is also in this series of hq songfics so u should go read it!) & i had random inspiration to write this. so here. sorry btw.
> 
> warnings for this chap: PTSD-related thoughts/actions, trauma responses, semi-graphically depicted/implied rape, rape aftermath.

Like a sick mantra, Akaashi counts down the days approaching his heat cycle. He supposes it helps prepare himself for what’s to come, but he knows that’s a lie; every time it happens, the shock he feels is the same. Every time it happens, the shame that coils in his stomach is akin to the guilt he felt that first time.

Nevertheless, counting down gives the setter a sense of control over a situation that he ultimately cannot change.

He gathers his backpack and athletic bag before slipping on his shoes, the ticking of the grandfather clock against the far wall of the living room giving his task some background noise. He hates that clock.

His Beta mother enters the room, and he can feel her pause in her tracks. She doesn’t say a word, though. She never does.

Akaashi avoids her gaze and leaves for school. The slamming of the front door accompanies the lifting of the weight he always feels when he’s home.

* * *

Akaashi has always loved volleyball, but he’s recently grown to appreciate the sport even more. It keeps him from having to go back home, and it’s a healthy distraction from everything else. It’s a constant that keeps the second-year grounded.

It’s the only positive thing he has in his life, other than Bokuto— though he and volleyball obviously go hand-in-hand.

“Konoha-san!" He calls, setting the ball in the blonde’s direction. He spikes it to the lineup of three receivers on the other side of the court, who send the ball back into the basket on the other side.

It’s a lucky shot; they’ve been aiming for the basket throughout the drill, but it’s harder than it seems.

The spiking and receiving drill continues until the coach calls for a short water break, and collective sighs of relief are heard.

Now that the team is taking a breather, Akaashi becomes more acutely aware of the plethora of scents permeating the air. It reeks of Alpha hormones: Washio, Bokuto, and Komi, with Onaga, who hasn’t Presented yet, sporting a slight Alpha-esque musk as well. He’d likely present soon as yet another Alpha.

Konoha seems to read the setter’s mind as he walks over to Akaashi with a grimace. “It fuckin’ _stinks_ in here. You damn Alphas need to invest in scent blockers or something.”

The Beta shoots Akaashi a glance, and the second-year wrinkles his nose in response, the gesture proving Konoha’s words. The stench is nearly overwhelming.

Bokuto laughs, and it’s hearty and loud (and Akaashi would be lying if he said it didn’t make him smile fondly).

“Whatever, man! Maybe you’re just jealous _you_ aren’t an Alpha.” he jeers.

“As _if!_ I thank the universe each day for not making me a cocky A-word.”

“A-word,” Washio repeats to himself, a small smile accompanying the phrase.

Akaashi will admit, deeming Alphas ‘A-words’ _is_ humorous. Maybe because lots of Alphas are another type of a-word: assholes.

Not _these_ Alphas, though. The Fukurodani team is welcoming and, although boisterous and sometimes too rowdy for their own good, they all have good hearts.

It’s not Akaashi’s fault he’s so wary towards Alphas. He wasn’t always this way. 

When he began his attendance at Fukurodani, he was 15, hopefully bright-eyed, and Unpresented. Even though he had an inkling he’d be an Omega, Akaashi had no issues with Alphas, and they didn’t scare him in the slightest. After all, Akaashi was just 3-inches shy of 6-feet tall back then, so his stature put him on eye level with most Alphas his age.

In fact, one could argue that the setter had the _opposite_ of an Alpha problem, because it was apparent from the first few weeks of volleyball practice that he’d begun to crush on one of the team’s Alphas: Bokuto.

Honestly, how could he _not_ fall for the owl-haired boy? He’s everything Akaashi isn’t— unpredictable, spontaneous, confident, loud, cheerful— so naturally, younger Akaashi was drawn to his aura.

…Then December of his first year rolled around. Just before he turned 16, Akaashi’s first heat hit him like a tidal wave. What happened after that felt like he was being yanked underwater, pulled further down into the unforgiving oceanic abyss by the hands of a man he’d thought he could trust.

That was the worst birthday of his life, and the memories of it will never leave the caverns of his mind.

* * *

**4 days** until his upcoming heat.

Akaashi gathers his strewn-about homework and sorts the pages back into his school folders, stifling a yawn. His teachers had assigned more homework than he’d anticipated yesterday, but he’d already agreed to stay after school with Bokuto after their morning practice finished, leaving him less time for schoolwork.

He got it all done on time anyway, so that’s all that matters. Akaashi can deal with some extra exhaustion.

The Omega dresses and gathers his school belongings in the order he always follows. Today, however, he detours to grab a snack from the kitchen as a makeshift breakfast. Usually he just skips the meal altogether.

His dad is sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of black coffee as he taps away on his phone. Akaashi doesn’t realize he’s frozen up out of automatic fear.

“What, are you waiting for a ‘good morning’?” The man snaps, his cold eyes flicking to meet his son’s own. He scoffs. “Well then _good morning,_ I suppose.”

Akaashi doesn’t reply. He swallows around the dry lump in his throat and forgoes breakfast, leaving the kitchen without a second thought.

Bokuto joins the setter on his walk to school today because he allegedly missed the bus and didn’t feel patient enough to wait for the next one. Akaashi welcomes his presence, subconsciously scenting the air to breathe in the captain’s familiar sharp citrus and earthy soil scent. It doesn’t matter that it is distinctly Alpha-smelling; it’s comforting nonetheless.

“You’re quieter than usual today, ‘Kaashi.” He observes, giving the second-year’s shoulder an encouraging nudge. “You okay?”

Akaashi returns the nudge, giving the spiker a small smile. “I’m fine, Bokuto-san, just tired. I had lots of homework.”

Bokuto lights up, returning the Omega’s smile with one that’s twice as bright. The rising sun catches the flecks of shimmering gold in his eyes, its rays illuminating the ace’s pewter lashes. He looks otherworldly.

It’s a good thing the Alpha isn’t still looking at him, because Akaashi stares for much longer than he’d like to admit.

* * *

They run different practice drills today, including a new one that their coach had picked up from Nekoma. It isn’t a simple drill, and introducing it when the team is already an hour into practice makes learning the task that much more difficult.

When they finally get the hang of it, the coach rewards them by letting them choose their last drill. Almost instantly, they suggest a scrimmage. Everyone loves practice matches the most.

Akaashi can feel the exhaustion seeping through his skin like the sweat soaking through his shirt. The game is almost over, though. The setter wipes his hands on his practice shorts and breathes in deep, hoping to regain some energy.

He sends the set to Onaga, who goes for a straight shot, only to be blocked by Sarukui and Bokuto across the net. The ball lands on Akaashi’s side of the court, and Komi dives for it but is too slow. Bokuto’s side wins the scrimmage.

The Omega smiles as he sees the Alpha on the opposing side give Sarukui and Konoha high-fives and congratulatory butt-slaps. He rolls his eyes when Konoha whirls around to smack Bokuto on the back of his head with an irritated scowl. Behind him, he hears Komi snickering.

There’s good-natured laughter and chatter as the team begins to disassemble the net and retrieve stray volleyballs. The tiredness has definitely started to weigh Akaashi down, and he lags a little as he dumps volleyballs back into the cart.

Akaashi isn’t as aware of his surroundings this morning. He’s usually always hyper-observant, but today’s practice activities combined with the raven’s lack of sleep leave him giving into the relaxing act of ignoring his immediate environment. 

Which is why he doesn’t hear— or smell— Bokuto approaching.

“Good game, Akaashi!” The captain bellows, and he couples his praise with a loud smack on the setter’s ass.

Akaashi startles, whirling around with a gasp leaving his lips. Bokuto is grinning at him, a mischievous glint in his eye.

The Omega’s vision fogs, and his eyes are wide and frantic, the fight-or-flight instinct taking over his body. Akaashi doesn’t do either, though; instead, he freezes. Just like he did this morning. Just like he _always_ does. Why can’t he run whenever he desperately wants to?

The second-year doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he begins to feel lightheaded.

Bokuto’s smile drops immediately as his nostrils flare, likely picking up on the sudden scent projection of fear and distress. The entire team goes quiet, gazes turning to stare in their direction.

“A-akaashi, I uh— I didn’t mean to scare you. It was a joke, honest! I’m sorry.”

 _Speak,_ he tells himself. _Say something, you have to respond. Everyone is watching! They all probably think you’re weird, just say something, anything, stop freezing up all the time—_

“Akaashi?” Bokuto prompts, eyes now clouded with concern alongside his confusion.

“Please don’t do that again,” Akaashi responds, and he meant for his voice to be firm like it always is, but it trembles. He hopes no one notices.

“Okay, I won’t,” the Alpha assures. “Sorry again.”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi manages to answer, but he doesn’t turn his back on Bokuto again. His instincts practically scream at him not to, to run away from the Alpha before him who invaded his personal space and violated his body, just like—

The raven-haired boy jostles his head, deterring that last thought. _No, Bokuto did_ not _violate me; he was just being friendly. He didn’t know. Bokuto is_ nothing _like_ him.

Everyone returns to cleaning up the gym, but Akaashi can’t halt the ringing in his ears or the humiliation that curls up his spine and churns his insides.

_The shame always comes at the worst time._

* * *

**3 days.**

No one will admit it, but things have been awkward since the butt-slapping incident. Akaashi can’t blame them; they’ve never seen their setter look so terrified.

At least no one talks about it or asks Akaashi anything related to his response. It’s a good thing too, as he’s overwhelmingly embarrassed by his actions (or lack thereof) and wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. The Omega is growing tired of the worrisome glances his teammates cast his way when they think he isn’t paying attention.

However, since Akaashi’s heat is near, his scent is likely changing to reflect that fact, so perhaps the team will smell his alteration in scent and chalk it up to weird Omegan hormones. They have no idea what it’s like being an Omega anyway, and it would be incredibly rude of them to ask.

There’s one issue, though: one of their managers, Kaori, is an Omega as well. She’s used to hanging around Alphas but has never once reacted to an Alpha companion’s touch in the manner that Akaashi had. He hopes she doesn’t confront him about it.

The setter enters the locker room after morning practice, leaving just Washio and Onaga in the gym as they roll up the net.

At the sound of the door opening, everyone already inside goes silent, guilt-ridden gazes locking onto Akaashi. He pretends not to notice, but embarrassment flushes his cheeks. Had they been talking about him?

Mortified, he strides quickly to his locker, grabs his school uniform, and leaves to change in the showers. He hates being the center of attention.

Again, he pretends not to notice the hushed whispers that start up once they believe the second-year is out of earshot.

Akaashi’s stomach rumbles, and he sighs, shutting off the shower and towel-drying his hair. Buttoning up his uniform shirt and throwing a sweater over it, he stuffs his blazer back in his clothes bag, telling himself that wearing three long-sleeve layers will make him feel cramped and uncomfortable in his own skin.

As if he isn’t _already_ uncomfortable in his own body. There’s no denying that he is. The Omega always despises himself more than usual when he’s in pre-heat.

Akaashi applies more deodorant than necessary, hoping to hide his changing scent. Gods, how he _detests_ being an Omega.

Awkwardly, the setter leaves the showers and makes a beeline for his locker. As expected, everyone goes quiet again, and it’s more irritating than embarrassing now.

Akaashi leaves his bag of practice clothes in his locker, slamming it shut and twisting the lock. As he turns to throw his towel in the laundry hamper, his eyes finally meet theirs.

“I don’t particularly appreciate being talked about behind my back, you know.” He states simply, not bothering to wait for a response or apology before he makes his exit.

Immediately, Akaashi feels guilt wash over him to accompany the anxiety thrumming under his skin. He wrings his hands together, short fingernails snagging against his skin. It doesn’t help.

* * *

After school, Bokuto calls out to him just before Akaashi begins his trek home.

“Hey hey, Akaashi, wait up!”

He does, of course. It’s not like the second-year is _mad_ at Bokuto, and even when he is, the anger never lasts long.

“Hey,” the ace breathes, slowing his steps to stand before the raven. He inhales and swallows, trying to catch his breath, and then pulls something shiny out of his bag. “We didn’t mean to make you upset earlier, in the changing room. We were just worried about you. But you were prob’ly just tired from all the homework the night before, and you always get kinda jumpy when you’re super duper tired, so I guess it’s nothing to worry about, right?” Bokuto pauses, and then a look of slight surprise colors his features. “Unless it _is_ something to worry about! Then you should tell me— only if you want to though, no pressure! So, uh, yeah. Sorry for making you mad. I got this for you as a peace offering!”

Akaashi looks down at the vending machine item being thrust into his arms, and he turns it rightside-up to view the packaging. It’s one of his favorite drinks, and he smiles as he opens the can.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. But I wasn’t too upset, so you don’t have to make ‘peace’ with me, as you put it.”

The Alpha grins. “Well good! I’m glad you’re not upset, cause I was gonna feel really bad if you were. Not that I already don’t feel bad! I just, ya know—”

“Don’t worry about it,” the setter assures, sipping his drink.

“Can I walk you home?” Bokuto asks, fiddling with the ends of his blazer.

Akaashi smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. He raises his drink to his lips again to hide the blush threatening to make itself known. “Yes, I’d like that.”

The two walk side-by-side next to the busying streets, with the wing spiker rambling about the day’s events and throwing out curious questions here and there about Akaashi’s day.

Eventually they make it to the Akaashi residence, and the shorter boy pretends not to feel the way his stomach drops with a sense of dread.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Akaashi says, and he reaches out to give Bokuto a brief hug before he can question it.

Bokuto doesn’t question it either, and instead flashes his teammate a beaming grin. The third-year understands that Akaashi is approaching his next heat cycle, which can occasionally make the Omega somewhat clingy. He doesn’t mind. “See ya then!”

Akaashi enters his house and toes off his shoes, peeking out the windows to watch as Bokuto walks down the street in the same direction they’d just come from, silently wishing him a safe trip home.

He jolts as he hears a cough behind him, spinning to see his father lounging on the couch. The setter’s gut seems to lurch when he realizes his dad is home early from work, and is holding a half-empty bottle of beer. _Why is he home early?_

“Welcome home,” the man drawls, finishing off his alcohol with a few hefty gulps.

Akaashi watches with building apprehension, and his hands begin to shake.

“Why are you home early?” He forces himself to ask, the words feeling like sandpaper on his tongue.

His father chuckles and sets the bottle aside, standing. Thankfully, his figure doesn’t wobble. _Good, he’s not drunk yet._

The man shrugs. “Just because,” he supplies, walking to the kitchen.

A shuddering sigh leaves the raven-haired boy when his dad is gone, and he thanks the universe for his fear-scent most likely masking the scent of his pre-heat. Akaashi finishes the drink Bokuto gave him and throws it in the can by the door.

Methodically, the Omega shuts the door to his room and props his desk chair beneath the doorknob to prevent any unwanted entry. It’s not foolproof by any means, but it makes him feel safer.

Just a little bit.

* * *

**2 days.**

Akaashi’s heat is almost afoot. After today, he will have to stay home from school and wait for his cycle to begin.

Knowing how close it is makes the Omega much more observant and on-edge than usual, but when he gets to morning practice, no one questions his antsiness. They’re all used to his nerves by now, and they aren’t new to how anxious he gets when approaching his heat.

No one dares approach him from behind, now; not since the incident. He’s beyond thankful for it, especially on days like today, when he’s flighty and his usually calm scent is tinged with bitter distress. No one wants that smell to get any stronger; it’s potent as is.

Akaashi is also thankful for the unspoken rule amongst the team where they let their setter change first, alone, when he’s near his heat.

At this point, it’s like clockwork (even though the Omega still can’t stand clocks).

* * *

The end of the school day comes, but the second-year doesn’t walk home. Another clockwork-like routine that occurs when he’s in pre-heat: he and Bokuto stay after school to practice.

They got weird looks for it, at first. After all, it _is_ a bit odd for an Omega almost in heat to ask their Alpha teammate to stay after school hours for extra practice. Even just that mere phrase sounds inherently sexual, and their teammates had apparently thought the same thing, teasing the two about what they possibly get up to during their special ‘extra practice’.

It isn’t like that (though would Akaashi mind if it _was_ like that? He tries not to think about how much he most definitely _wouldn’t_ mind).

In all honesty, Akaashi spends most of the few days leading up to the start of his heat cycle with Bokuto because he trusts him. Unlike in the case of being near a Beta or Omega, Bokuto’s Alpha Status will deter others from approaching Akaashi when they get a whiff of pre-heat, as they’ll see the Alpha nearby and avoid competition. Plus, Bokuto is his best friend, and the setter enjoys spending time with him no matter what the circumstance.

The most prominent reason why he and Bokuto always practice after school when Akaashi is in pre-heat is because it delays the inevitable: when Akaashi will have to go home. Not that the ace knows of this, though. All he assumes is that the Omega gets clingy near heat and wants to expend extra energy with more volleyball. No harm in that.

However, there is harm in overworking oneself. The second-year is practically drenched in sweat, breaths expelling from his overworked lungs in heaves. His arms quiver, exhaustion causing his muscles to jerk in small spasms.

“‘Kaash, I think we should call it quits,” Bokuto declares, but the setter is persistent and stubborn.

“Not yet.”

“But Akaashi—”

“Just a little more. Please?”

The Alpha is glad his setter currently has his eyes closed as he catches his breath, or else he could have seen how the ace’s pupils dilate at the sound of the Omega’s strained voice. Fuck, imagine him saying ‘please’ in another kind of situation—

Bokuto shakes his head and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his t-shirt, scolding his hormonal brain for even conjuring such a thought. “Okay, I give in. But just, like, five more. Deal?”

“Deal,” Akaashi agrees, straightening up and stretching his wrists. He gives a nod, indicating that he’s alright to keep up.

As agreed upon, he passes and sets just five more balls for Bokuto to spike. After the last hit, he realizes his legs are trembling. 

“Okie doke!” Bokuto shouts, giving a big huff of finality as he places his hands on his hips. “Time to shag balls and haul ass.”

The Omega wheezes out a small laugh, bending down to grab the nearest volleyball.

When the net is put away and the court is free of stray balls, Bokuto turns to his teammate.

“You should drink some water, ‘Kaashi.”

“Yeah,” the raven agrees. “And shower, too. Do you mind if—”

“If you go first? Nah, not at all. Go ahead! I’ll mop the floors.”

Akaashi gives him a grateful smile and jogs off to the locker room.

His shower is pleasant, but the feeling of tranquility doesn’t last. How can it? Not when the boy knows— and dreads— what’s waiting for him back home.

He hates being an Omega.

Half an hour later, Bokuto locks the changing room and closes up the gym, joining Akaashi on the pavement outside.

“Ready to go?” He asks, a cheerful lilt still coating his voice as if he hadn’t just practiced for three hours.

The raven nods, and they walk in comfortable, tired silence. At one point, Bokuto pulls out an energy bar from his backpack. The setter usually hates the sounds of people chewing, but he’s too exhausted to be annoyed by it right now. Instead, he zones in on the rhythmic crunching sounds and tries to ignore his nerves as they get closer to Akaashi’s street.

Inevitably, they reach Akaashi’s home. He thanks the owl-haired boy for walking him home with a, “you really didn’t have to, Bokuto-san”, but Bokuto assures him that he wanted to.

Akaashi hugs his ace again this time, for a little while longer. They always cheer Bokuto up to an infinite degree, since “Akaashi-hugs are ultra rare”.

The two bid goodbye and Akaashi’s shaky fingers struggle to slide his house key into the doorknob. He’s almost got it when the door unlocks from the inside and swings open.

His father stands in the doorway, large and intimidating. The setter’s heart lodges in his throat when he sees the man’s inky pupils dilate, and Akaashi chances a look down the street to make sure Bokuto is far away enough.

“Get inside, Keiji.”

Akaashi’s pulse roars in his ears as he obeys, sliding inside and freezing up. He doesn’t even bother reaching down to untie his shoes and take them off. He just wants this over with.

The Omega tenses when the door slams and locks violently, and his body stiffens even more when his father trails a hand against his neck.

“I hate that stupid fucking fear scent,” he snarls, and Akaashi shuts his eyes as he wills his scent to return to normal. It’s a useless effort; he can’t force his fear away.

There’s a beat of silence for a moment. The grandfather clock chimes as the time turns to 9PM.

Finally, the man shuffles into the kitchen. Akaashi takes the small moment of freedom to retreat to his room, not caring that his shoes are still on his feet.

In his bathroom upstairs, the raven scrubs at his neck viciously to try and get rid of the phantom feeling of grimy hands on his skin.

Downstairs, the clock's tick-tocking continues like nothing has happened.

* * *

**1 day.**

Today, Akaashi goes into heat. It will probably happen towards the end of the day, which means he’ll be sitting around wallowing in anxiety until then.

He hates being an Omega.

The boy distracts himself by blasting his music and devoting his focus to schoolwork. He doesn’t even have too much homework, but he takes his time with it anyway and triple checks his answers just to occupy his mind. Else he might spiral.

Akaashi counts the hours. Counting helps.

He tracks his symptoms too, knowing that he’ll get the most feverish about an hour before his cycle officially kickstarts. Cramps are already present and have been for a few days. They’re worse than yesterday, though.

Akaashi tells himself he should probably eat and drink something, so he applies a sickening amount of strong deodorant over his exposed scent glands. They’re swollen, further tightening that knot of anxiety in the Omega’s stomach.

He hopes his scent, much stronger than yesterday and slowly getting more potent, is masked enough.

Wasting no time, the second-year runs down the stairs and fetches a box of cereal, granola bars, and a glass of water. Luckily, he makes it back to his room without seeing either of his parents. He doubts his mum is home; her work always gives her the option of taking a short leave when Akaashi goes into heat, treating it like a scheduled bout of sickness. She almost always declines their offer, though. Perhaps they think she’s a cruel mother, and Akaashi can’t decide if they’re right or not.

As he munches on dry cereal, the raven messages Bokuto and feels his shoulders sag in relief when he replies instantly.

The two text off and on throughout the day as Akaashi tries to occupy himself so he doesn’t have to think about his heat. When Bokuto’s responses come to a pause, the Omega strips his bed and re-makes it with absorbent sheets. Next, he starts the nesting process.

Nesting is the only aspect of heat cycles that Akaashi doesn’t hate. It’s meticulous and calming, like creating a sculpture; he gets absorbed in the work of it and by the time he’s done, he has no idea how much time has passed.

He admires his work and then takes a snack break, checking his phone for new texts. There’s just one, from Bokuto, wishing him a good day.

A smile adorns the boy’s face as he rereads the message. Shit may suck, but Bokuto is like the mirage of an oasis in a desert.

Nevertheless, Akaashi still reverts back to his nervous habit of counting the hours. Downstairs, the grandfather clock gives a deafening chime.

* * *

Hours later, Akaashi jolts awake in a frantic state of mind. Breathing heavily, the Omega glances around his room and notices the daylight previously streaming through the window curtains has disappeared, leaving the room in a state of cold moonwashed darkness.

Akaashi sits up, and his heartbeat rushes to thunderously roar in his ears when he realizes how sweaty and weak his body is. He’s officially entered into his heat cycle. Any minute now, he’ll—

_Knock knock knock._

The second-year gasps, gaze flying to the source of the knocking. Beneath the door frame, a sliver of light from the hallway casts a looming shadow of the man standing just outside his room.

The knob jiggles and turns, agonizingly slow.

Even more slowly does the door open, light from the hallway spilling in.

Heart in his throat, tears already threatening to gather in his unblinking eyes, Akaashi freezes. All he can do is watch, his mind numb, face blank, hands sweaty, pulse skyrocketing.

Akaashi counts to three. He always waits three seconds before he speaks.

 _1, 2, 3…_ “Oh, you poor, _poor_ Omega,” Akaashi’s father croons, sick mockery dripping from his mouth like poisoned honey. 

“I left you alone for a little bit longer than usual this time,” he continues, stepping inside and shutting Akaashi’s door behind him, blanketing the environment in shadow. “But your scent just kept getting stronger. I couldn’t take it anymore. You _know_ what you do to me, Keiji.”

Finally, like clockwork, the tears start to come.

Like clockwork, Akaashi’s father strides over to his nest and haphazardly tosses apart his hard work.

Like clockwork, he gives him a smile that makes the Omega’s gut twist. It’s a smile that used to comfort the boy and make him feel safe. A smile that once spoke of trust.

Akaashi focuses on the muted ticking of the downstairs clock. He tunes into the ticking of the alarm clock beside his bed. He counts and closes his eyes, wishing he were somewhere safe.

Their clockwork routine continues. His father wraps a hand around his neck and forces his son’s head to tilt, giving access to swelled scent glands. The man inhales like he’s been dying for it, and Akaashi waits for him to spout some bullshit about his Alpha desires.

“Hell, you Omegas always smell so good. It’s too bad I married a Beta though, right?” He gives a dark chuckle. “But you understand, don’t you, Keiji? An Alpha just can’t resist primal urges. Omegas are practically built for Alphas anyway. _You were made for this._ ”

Akaashi shudders, guilt clouding his emotions and making him feel like he might vomit.

The onslaught continues, and the Omega retreats inward to his mind. On normal days, he may hate his brain, but in times like this he’s thankful for its infinite depth. It’s his only means of escape.

The boy feels numb as cold unkempt hands strip him carelessly, flipping him over on his stomach. His arms and legs are pinned, like they always are.

His dad doesn’t prep him or give him time to adjust to the intrusion. He never does.

Like clockwork, Akaashi weeps, the tears hot and burning against his skin. He wishes they’d catch fire and roast him alive. He wishes he had a different father. He wishes he didn’t have heats at all. He wishes he wasn’t an Omega.

The man above him catches sight of his son’s tears, and tells him:

_“Go ahead and cry, little boy. Nobody does it like you do.”_

The grandfather clock chimes from the first floor, like a crow’s mutilated caw signaling the wrath of the end times. The sound mocks him, and the Omega is bitterly reminded of how much he wants to rid the world of that clock.

* * *

It takes five rounds for his heat to subside to a dull thrum, and as soon as Akaashi’s scent turns from saccharine sweet to a subdued sour, his father leaves. It's always this way.

Akaashi is still crying and trembling like a leaf. His bottom lip has been chewed raw, but he doesn’t care when he tastes blood.

The boy stays frozen in the position he was left in, the numbness of his mind gently floating away. Like a frosted plant in the first light of morning, Akaashi unthaws, and it is a gradual process.

He is not nearly as beautiful as defrosting meadows, though.

Just like always, he forces his body to shower. Just like always, his legs are unsteady and unreliable, and his entire physique aches from the tension his muscles held. Just like always, he cleans himself of the blood and semen with a blank face and tightly shut eyes. He never looks, not anymore; he’d made the mistake of glancing at the fluids smeared against his skin after that first time, and it had made him puke.

Akaashi can’t hear the ticking of the clocks amidst the running water, so his brain supplies its own ticking to fill the silence. He counts the imaginary clicks and continues his clockwork. The ghostly feeling of tears against his cheeks and the sniffles that break the cloud of quietness serve to be his only companions.

The stream of scalding water runs its metaphorical claws down the boy's aching back, and he shudders as the phantom feeling of his father's hands violate his broken body, like a rash he cannot quell. Pitifully, Akaashi pretends the tears on his face have been replaced with kind, trustworthy hands, and he imagines gentle fingers caressing his skin.

He hates being an Omega.

_Go ahead and cry, little boy._

_Nobody does it like you do._

_I know how much it matters to you._

_I know that you got daddy issues._

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments motivate me & make my day so plsss consider doing so !!! thank u for reading. keep ur eye out for the next chap.


End file.
